Crop Dance
by Banana Rum
Summary: Had she been a goddess, he would have been the full moon residing beside her. But she was only a scarecrow an observer, and he but a passing freeze. SessxKagu


Crop Dance 

_By Kalliel_

_Alternate universe; Rated PG (or K+)_

Summary: Kagura x Sesshoumaru Had she been a goddess, he would have been the full moon residing beside her. But she was only a scarecrow; an observer, and he but a passing freeze. WARNING: tools of irony, metaphors and personification at work.

Dedicated to Fledgling, who is now fluffyfledgling, but when I met her, the prior was her name. Thank you for reviewing my stories, and coming up with genuine ideas that make me say "wow" every single review. Literally.

Part I: Design 

She opened her eyes just long enough to glimpse the farmer and his perfect daughter walking away from her. _It's cold, it's cold_, she whined. _Why do you leave me in this wasteland? _Then she clamped her eyes shut again. Or tried to.

It was then she discovered that she could not. Her eyes were of glass; small beads left over from a necklace the girl in white had bought in the market a year before. She tried to follow after them, only to find that she was bound to a splinter of rotting wood with rusted nails and fraying string.

Oh, oh how she wished to follow those two, into their home, through lockless doors that invited her into their warming sensitivity.

But what was she to them? A tool for cultivation. She would have cried then, but she could not bring tears to the glass beads she had for eyes.

What was the point of having a scarecrow in midwinter, the child asked. She was pale and beautiful and young; why did she bother to concern herself with the stuffing of scarecrows for her father's fields?

Only her father lived with that child, her parental lineage not truly set in stone. He did not answer, only continued to stuff stiff straw into the worn clothing his daughter had obligingly patched up for the occasion.

"Your sister, your sister," was all he muttered, and the girl thought, how could a doll with bonds to a wooden stake outside and a free human like her ever be sisters?

Scarecrows were a little known art. While others merely stuffed materials in every which way, the girl's father knew there was skill involved. Carefully, with purpose, did the farmer weave the straw and wool and rosemary together, stroking the work-worn clothing riddled with thinning threads of red and white.

"Why rosemary?" the daughter asked, and her father replied, "Obedience."

Why an insignificant thing like a scarecrow would need a trifle like obedience, when it was to be nailed to a stake, the girl did not know.

How long had it been since she had had a glimpse of the pretty little girl and her father? _Forever, forever_, her heart whispered. _Never, never_, the doubts clouded her obsidian gaze.

The dust of snow lit on her shoulders, and stuck in her corn-husk tresses. From her prison-stake, she had a perfect view of the sky and its actions. Eyes unsleeping, she observed silken tents of billowing clouds.

The formations that were supposed to calm the nerves—nerves she knew she didn't actually possess—were the things that most frightened her. Huge, towering masses, of rain-bearing tapestries.

She did not revel in the rain—her straw and clothes became saturated with stagnant water from the sky. Were they the God's tears weeping for her situation?

And then it got moldy. That was the worst part. Sitting through nights of stormy tempest, and suffering through the day as it ate away at her insides and infested her body with rot.

But the wind… It cleared away the clouds and brought a lightness to her swaying body that gave her the illusion of freedom. Sometimes, when she had nothing at all to ponder, she could let go of her claims to reality and pretend she ruled the wind. That it soared with her permission only, and in whatever direction she willed it.

But it was always only a fleeting emotion. She was forever trapped by wood and iron and so much more that one could only vaguely outline.

But for the love of a question, why could she not be the wind? _Why…_

And then she did stop dancing among the breezes, to think on that a little further. A chill burst flew up the stake she was displayed on and into the heart of her body, and she shuddered. _What was that?_

And then it was gone, leaving a trail of frost on the ground below her. So quickly had it disappeared—like it had wanted to be rid of her intrusive presence.

Like it was the messenger that had come to tell her that the world did not care what became of her in the coming months.

Part II: Flower Gathering 

Months passed, and with them came new stuffings for the scarecrow, as well as many, many doubts.

A _scarecrow_, she was. And that was all. Only a fabrication of the farmer's need to protect his fields. Then why had she given herself a name? Come next winter they would only tear her down and make a new doll. "_My name is Kagura," _became her mantra. _Kagura, Kagura, Kagura…_

Her sewn lips whispered the name like a dangerously forbidden secret. Sometimes, it was a poisonous, choking word, and at others, like the fluid dance of gales. Now was one of the latter.

Had the little white child come out to her that morning, to give her a gift of such undeserved elegance? Rings of jade stone, the child had presented she, the scarecrow, with.

Oh, oh! Such joy dearest 'Kagura' had felt then. Acceptance by those she believed to favor most. She could feel herself smile ever so slightly, and wondered if anyone else could notice her elation.

No one did, nor would anyone have understood why if they had.

How was she to know that the jade earrings were only hard, bitter fruits forced onto a twine string by bluntest needle?

Even so, Kagura decided that this 'spring', as the farmer and his daughter called it, was her favorite season. There was a gentle wind, bringing no heavy rains, and small flowers sprouted at her dangling feet, brushing against her with a feather-light touch.

And there was company. The farmer came out frequently, sowing the fields for planting and expertly—he was precise in everything he created— spreading seeds into ditches, carefully dropping three corn kernels into every hole as his daughter watched, fluttering in Kagura's wind, like a small snowflake that survived through the melting rays of spring.

Then the corn began to sprout, small sprigs at first, but all the same growing up tall and straight. Then was the time that Kagura knew her period of usefulness had reached its peak. She was to protect the sweet, young corn from the crows.

But…the crows did nothing. And they most certainly did not fear her. They jeered, laughing and flitting close before leaving, chastising her inability to follow. _I am keeping them away._ She lied to herself.

She needed the cool touches of wind then, withdrawing from the heightening temperature of the oncoming summer.  
_Crow, crow, where has the frost gone?"_

_Silly thing, _it crowed. A thing, it called her. A thing! _The frost chases flame, which chases death. Things must come in full circle. Only the wisest beings see frost but more than once._

Kagura did not understand—though she did hear the quiver of fear in the crow's call that came with those words. Fire and ice, eh?

If she did not know the meaning of the crow's riddle, she would soon. A prayer in spring sung itself to her, as she glanced down at the snow-bud blooms beneath her. They reminded her of the snow flurries the frost had brought.

Part III: The Sound of Trees Dying 

She had heard that sound the day before. And the many days before, after the crows left.

It haunted her playground; the festering crackle and squirm invaded her wooden ears and growled at her form in the fields. Every so often, she would see a few black beads flitting across the clearing, back and forth, back and forth, carrying tidings of ill fortune and carrying Kagura's attempts at contentedness one step backward.

_What could those awful hisses be? _She wept inside, lacking the freedom to even shed her tears.

And then the raid came. From the trees, an awful upwelling of darkness terminated the sun's rays, sinking Kagura into darkness.

This darkness, though, was not the cooling touch of nightfall. The black surge bombarded her from every direction, gnawing on her wooden stake, before rejecting her musty taste for the sweeter corn.

_Go away! Please! I need… to keep this crop safe! I need… to make the farmer and his daughter bring me into their warmth…_ She protested, but to no avail.

The insects ripped at the tender, unripe kernels, and each little bit crushed Kagura inside. _Please…_

The feast continued. Days upon days, until Kagura was sure that there could not possibly be more harvest to devour. And yet, still more insects flew in, cascading in mighty showers from a cliff dwelling high above, perhaps even as far as the stars themselves.

_Saimyoushou! _A haughty voice resoundedfrom across the valley, echoing from a cliff dwelling and spreading like wildfire with rapture, eating the very earth on the outskirts of her field.

_Who—_She started, before the fire blazed directly in front of her eyes teasingly.

_Blaze._ He whispered in her ear before darting off to turn the remaining soil and plant into fodder for his being.

_So, he is freeze's brother?_ Kagura scoffed. _There is no resemblance, then._

Blaze whirled around, sending a whirlwind of embers into the air. _Is that what you think?_

Kagura glared at him rebelliously, and nodded as best she could.

_I don't think so either, but I don't think you're in a position to _judge _such, scarecrow. _He loomed in front of her for an ominous moment, before his eyes caught sight of the small home that the farmer and his daughter shared. _But first…_

_No! _Kagura desperately fought for movement. _Please…don't!_

Blaze ignored her wishes, grinning back devilishly. _If it weren't for them, I'd be free. _He rushed toward the beam building, wavering in anticipation of their deaths.

_Free? _Like the wind. Kagura wanted that, too. But, blaze _was _free, was he not? Or maybe… Maybe there was something more to freedom than being able to float in the breezes and dance wherever whims would wish.

Within heartbeats, blaze was thrown back with great force by a sudden gale. The farmer and his daughter, who had been attempting to escape, clung to each other helplessly.

Kagura felt the cold slap of a torrential downpour from the sky, slamming into her flaming parts to douse the fire's light. The combined forces ripped her apart, undoing the carefully braided parts and destroying her body.

_Freeze…? _She rasped as her body fell from its pole onto the brazen earth. _You brought…the rain. The _rain _that I fear so. _Then, Kagura was scared. How could her saviour bring such terrors? Then she disappeared and her thoughts died with her.

The farmer's daughter watched her father through thick-paned windows as he inspected the damage the poisons and fire had caused. It was as though he had stepped into a disused graveyard, and sought the bodies of the dead who had lain there. Nothing was left.

She glanced back at the worktable and the contents laid out on its surface, and at the husk of a doll that was once Kagura. Catching a flurry of dust in the air with dreamy idleness, she picked up a thick needle and began to thread it in and out of a coarse burlap sack.

Repairing the scarecrow was time-consuming, and even though the small white girl did not stray from her task, Kagura's body hung upon the mending wall for many days. When her eyes were finally sewn on, the first thing she saw was the devastated field she had called home, singed black, with the crimson and ochre sunset flaring on the horizon.

She screamed.

When Kagura was finally placed back in her field—for purely decorative purposes now—the line of trees that had divided her from more fields had vanished.

Betrayal.

How could he? How _could _he? There were more fields! And more scarecrows like her! She swayed in the light wind furiously, damning her worrisome thoughts. _I thought I had failed! That they would starve!_

But no, they had many more fields, stretching as far as the vantage point allowed. So she was only a doll in a collection of many.

So that's how it all played out, wasn't it. A doll.

Part IV: My November Guest 

Kagura watched as the flames flickered jovially from burner to burner, and their spirit rested on a tree fallen across a pond—a pond that had had not even held the slightest trickle since its creation.

_So, that means frost didn't kill you then. _Kagura glared in his direction, flapping uselessly on her post.

_Of course not. _Blaze scoffed, the torches burning a little brighter as he spoke. _Dearest November guest, I have lived for eternity. It's not about to change. You, on the other hand…_Blaze swept closer, licking dry reeds and setting them alight, before they starved themselves offodder, and the light dissipated.

_You, are quite the opposite. 'Death' would love to see your pretty face _again, _wouldn't he?_

Kagura tensed.

_Look at the lights over there. So you know what they are? No, of course not. And want to know a secret? Neither do I. It isn't my domain any longer. A long time ago, my lights were the _only _lights. Now, there's those things. Things are changing, Kagura, was it? Those people you worship, they can replace you too. With something bigger, better than mediocre scarecrows._

Kagura stared at him in disbelief. _But, you wanted that, didn't you? Your freedom…_

Blaze laughed, curling his tongue against her throat. _Obscurity isn't freedom. _

And then he was gone, skipping though the torches and up into the main bonfire of the festivities in the distant village.

In the days following the harvest festival and her talk with blaze, Kagura's thoughts avoided his words, giving them a much larger birth than was probably needed.

Instead, she concerned herself with the coming winter. As she had known before, scarecrows were only a year's work of effort for a year's worth of days. What would become of her when the winter came again?

Bead-eyes scanning the vast billows of the now empty fields, all the other scarecrows had been taken down, while their crop was being harvested. What about her? Had they forgotten?

_Obscurity isn't freedom. _No. no, no! She couldn't think about that. Forcing herself to think on a different topic, Kagura began to call in earnest for the winter. So they would take her down. Freeze would be there.

And right now, she needed his icy competence nearby more than ever.

_But…_ Today was certainly a day for contradictions, wasn't it? If the freeze came, then so would the storms.

_What does that matter anymore? My fields were destroyed, I was incinerated, and forgotten—for the time being. I will wait for the freeze _and _his storms and I will be protected by him. Somehow._

She felt a small shower of the first rains of winter drop onto her. Smiling grimly and steadfast, with those thoughts in mind, she kept her eyes trained on the farmer, out for a late walk.

Why the scarecrow thought she would be protected by winter's touch, or why she thought it would do her well, only the winds know.

_--_

Part V: The Span of Life 

Blaze tore down a chimney stack and festered in the fireplace of the farmer's family home. Bright, fluorescent lights shone in his eyes as he writhed in pain, trying to gather himself.

_No, _he protested weakly. _Those lights, they're…_

_They're what, brother. _Curling licks of condensation swept under the door, and blaze looked up at freeze. _Replacements?_

_Don't start that with me! _Blaze coughed. _I only—_

Freeze caught his eye and bored into him. _There will be new innovations for heat, for light; but I am the only bringer of cold and storms. _He advanced confidently.

_Is that what you think? _Blaze shouted, voice catching. _'Cause you're wrong._

Freeze kept slinking towards his brother, without so much as a hitch in step. _Brother dear, don't toy with that scarecrow. _He bent down eye to eye with blaze.

_You…have feelings for her? _Blaze chortled, sputtering as the rain shook the foundations of the cabin and scattered like stray sparks down the chimney. _I can't believe you actu—_

And then he was gone.

Freeze turned away and walked back into his storm.

The stars completing the constellation humans called _canis major _shown unusually bright that night.

Kagura looked up at the sky in wonderment, bedazzled by the sight of the rain, which fell from that cluster of stars.

They were the star splitters, filtering the opalescent hues from the dark, and spreading them into rain and sky.

With the chill effects of freeze's presence, the sky was much clearer than on the day she had spent with blaze. Then, it had been hazy and decidedly muck-colored around the edges.

The farmer stood by her, gazing up at the sky as well, but for a different reason. The rain was turning to snow now. Taking a great hold on Kagura's anchoring stake, the farmer wrenched her out of the ground, heaving her body—stake and all—onto his shoulder, he trudged back to his cottage.

He strode directly past freeze without noticing anything more than a slight drop in temperature.

_Freeze…_ Kagura called wistfully. To her great surprise, he turned to her. But before she had a chance to say more, the farmer slammed the door shut.

He set her back on the mending wall as he brought more logs and a box of Lucifer matches. Then he set her as kindling in the fireplace. She was damp, but it would have to do for that night.

Striking the match across the side of the small box and throwing the flaming stick into the fireplace, the farmer and his daughter watched as Kagura caught alight, rosemary cleansing the house of smoky, burning smells and replacing them with its own. She erupted in instant flames, easily spreading to the larger logs. Edges of her husk-body licked blue, flickering and swaying in their own wind.

But it was a fire without the jump and ravage of blaze. And there was the more detectable lack of his voice in her head. So he had gone, too. She supposed death would be a much warmer place with him.

Kagura's head bent back as the supporting pole crumbled and severed with embers. She smiled with melting, glazed bead-eyes at the window, where she knew freeze was watching.

_Thank you._

_--_

Fin


End file.
